Misunderstood
by eemmaatt33
Summary: Helga Hufflepuff was as misunderstood as her house. A Hufflepuff appreciation story.


**Author's Note**:I do not own _Harry Potter_, all rights reserved to J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing. This is a not for profit, fan told story.

I have contained two stories in one. The bold writing is a summary about Helga, while the normal writing is past flashbacks about her life. This was written because Hufflepuff is always the forgotten house. They were the least spoken about in the book. So I've written a Hufflepuff appreciation story. I hope you enjoy.

Please remember to leave a review, especially if you're a secret Hufflepuff lover!

* * *

**Misunderstood**

**Helga Hufflepuff was as misunderstood as her house. Each founder was renowned for a particular trait they had abundance in, whether it were bravery, ambition, or intelligence. Except Helga was a well rounded witch. She took pride in being different. Never, would she constraint herself to one person's ideals. Whilst others were being moulded into miniature copies of their predecessors, Helga embraced each student. She searched for their unique qualities, to help them form their own identities.**

* * *

A small child sat alone under the stone arch of Hogwarts, silently sobbing into her oversized robes. Helga was considered many things and passionate was one of them.

"My dear sweet child," she spoke softly to the crying girl, "Whatever is the matter?"

The girl looked up and gasped. One of the Hogwarts's founders had actually addressed her. She sniffled and tried to hastily wipe away her tears.

"My problems are of no value when compared to yours, Lady Hufflepuff," she spoke humbly to her knees.

Helga herself had originally come from a poor family and understood the necessities of formal etiquette. However that didn't mean she abided by them.

"Please, call me Helga. What is your name, young one?"

The child glanced up and took in Helga's sincerity.

"It's Emelia. Emelia Dale."

"Now Emelia, why were you crying?"

"I-It's just that I really wanted to learn magic and I travelled all the way here. I di-didn't expect to be rejected, before I even became a student!"

Tears began to flow down Emelia's cheeks again.

"Rejected? I wasn't aware that any students were being sorted today," Helga scrunched her face in confusion.

"I was at a meeting with the other three founders," Emelia revealed.

Helga saved this piece of information for later.

"They told me that I didn't have the right qualities. It's true though! I'm not brave or smart or ambitious. I'm just… well, I'm just me."

"Well said," Helga praised, "You seem to understand your boundaries. We first must learn to appreciate our flaws. For our flaws are what makes us individuals. You should be allowed to study magic, and study you will, by learning under me. I value independent students in the House of Hufflepuff."

Emelia rushed forward and tightly hugged Helga.

"Thank you! Thank you, so much. I oh-" She paused when she noticed what she was doing.

"Very well Emelia. Come with me to my office and I can get things sorted out," Helga guided Emelia to the stone stairs.

"I also need to have a few words with some certain friends of mine," she uttered under her breath.

* * *

**The Hufflepuff house, in a way, is just as shunned as the Slytherins. They are not known for bravery like the Gryffindors, or cunning like the Slytherins and definitely not as intellectuals like the Ravenclaws. They were cast offs, the ones who simply wouldn't fit anywhere else, or so everyone else thought.**

* * *

Helga burst into the room, her head held high as she stormed over to her armchair. She sat down heavily and tightly crossed her arms over her chest. The others glanced up from their activities and awaited for Helga to say something. She was obviously upset.

"Why wasn't I informed about a sorting today?" Helga asked.

Godric stood tall and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"My dear Helga, had I known you were to be this upset, I would have arranged an owl to inform you immediately," He spoke, brash as usual.

Rowena and Salazar groaned, that was the wrong response. Helga huffed and sat up straighter, her scowl was as sharp as any sword Godric could grasp.

"Helga, we honestly didn't think you would mind," Rowena added, looking back down at her book, losing interest in the conversation.

"Anyway, the student we interviewed was useless. Came from a poor family. She would have been more comfortable working in our kitchens, than learning magic," Salazar laughed.

Helga felt insulted. How could they judge her, based on her wealth? Shouldn't they be evaluating her skill or at least the strength of her person?

"I started my life as an underprivileged child. Should I not have learned magic?" Helga confronted Salazar.

"Now, now Helga. He didn't mean anything against you personally. It was just an observation, nothing more," Godric tried to intervene before an all-out fight began.

It was silent between the founders.

"I'm sorry. I just overreacted. Next time, I would like to be there for the sortings," Helga finally spoke.

The others nodded their agreement. Why was she always the one to settle, to make the sacrifices, Helga thought. Did they even respect her? Understand her? She let the matter settle. Now was not the time.

* * *

**You see, Helga choose her students, not for a particular trait, but for being different from the rest. She had a variety of students. Of those who didn't fit into the ideals of others; who wanted to be different and weren't afraid to stand out. Together they were a diverse group.**

* * *

"Bring in the next candidate," Godric yelled to the staff member awaiting at the door.

Helga sighed, it was a tough job sorting the students, especially when all four of them are each looking for different qualities. Another girl entered the room. She was presented neatly in a fine dress robe. Her hair was tied back in a tight black bun.

"Miss Fiona Weatherly, please take a seat," Rowena stated.

She shyly approached the group and sat timidly upon the assigned chair.

Helga could already see Godric crossing the girl's name off his list. Not brave enough for his house of lions.

"Those are some fine robes you are wearing my child. Are you from an ancient and noble house, by chance?" Salazar asked.

Again with the pureblood nonsense. What difference does it make where you originate?

"No, my father owns a small bakery and my mother helps bake. They're both non magical. I come from a long line of bakers. However I would love to be the first in my family to learn magic. Once I discovered I had the gift, I thought, well, the possibilities are endless," Fiona rambled.

Rowena seemed put off by the continued nonsense the girl sported. Not quite bookish enough for her tastes. Salazar became disinterested as well, once he discovered her family roots.

"Well, thank you for coming but-" Rowena began.

"Wait," Helga interrupted, "Are you willing to work hard? Magic is a fine art, not for the weak minded."

"I am determined, my lady," Fiona looked passionately into Helga's eyes.

"Then welcome to Hogwarts. You will be placed into the beginner level, under the house of Hufflepuff. A fine accomplishment, I must admit. If you wait outside, a staff member will direct you to our Great Hall. Where I will later join you, along with any other new students."

"Thank you," Fiona bowed and quickly exited the room.

"You really will accept anyone into your house. Don't you have standards?" Salazar sneered.

"Every student deserves a chance to study magic. No matter what their background is. So you're right. I'll take any child you deem unworthy of your houses."

Helga abruptly stood and exited the room. They didn't understand. She had a dream of a united school, of folks of all kinds joined together by the bonds of magic. Was this too farfetched for reality? She would never know.

* * *

**As time wore on, Hufflepuff came to be seen not as an eccentric, fascinating house that was always different each year. Instead they became known as the undefined house, as the leftovers, the duffers of Hogwarts. This lasted until the Sorting Hat seized upon the one word that was always attached to them. Loyal. **

**It didn't say nearly enough.**


End file.
